by D. A. Hill
“No Gina, it’s logic. I’ve been an EM. Seemed pretty damned real to me. I’m not giving up on you. I hope you’ll change your mind. But you’re still my little girl so I won’t be going without you, Gina. In the meantime, I’m going to be doing my best to make this a success.”
—o—
It was close enough to lunchtime that Regina Lopez at least had a plausible reason for her presence in the cafeteria. Cyrus Jones did not need an explanation; he seemed to spend half his life there, drinking enough coffee to kill an elephant, constantly tapping away at his pad, and much of the time talking to himself. He was a strange one.
Regina picked at her lunch. She was so hungry it was a struggle not to just wolf it down. She knew she had to savor it, make it last. The gnawing pain in her stomach would only return the minute she finished eating. And she would have no reason to stay here watching Dr. Ivanov and Cyrus Jones once her meal was finished. Right now she wished she shared his passion for coffee. That would have given her a better excuse to linger and at least fill the empty void in her stomach, even if it was only temporary.
She had done her research on Dr. Elena Ivanov. American born, she was the daughter of Russian scientists who emigrated to the United States after the old Soviet Union collapsed in the early nineteen-nineties; the Cold War ended fifty-five years ago so that did not exactly make her a security risk. Graduate of MIT with a doctorate in neuroscience. She had been working with Cyrus Jones on the drone program for over ten years. That would explain her easy, familiar manner with him. Unless there was more to it that that? Regina did not think so but you never knew, especially with an introvert like Jones. For all she knew he could be madly in love with Elena Ivanov and nobody would know, probably not even Ivanov.
Major Regina Lopez chewed slowly on her food as she observed their conversation. Pity she could not read lips. At least then she would know what Ivanov was saying—Jones was sitting with his back to her—and even half a conversation would be better than nothing. She kicked herself for not planning ahead—it would have been easy enough to wire this place with listening devices. That did not help right now though. She would just have to get what she could from the facial expressions and body language.
As she watched she could see the discussion grow more animated. Just when it looked like it was settling down, Ivanov abruptly stood up, yelled something at Cyrus she could not make out, and stormed out. Lopez watched for a few more minutes. Instead of going back to his normal cafeteria routine Cyrus Jones just sat there looking dejected.
Lopez decided to strike while the iron was hot—people tended to reveal things they otherwise would not if you could catch them off guard in moments of emotional crisis. She picked up her tray and casually wandered over to the booth where Jones was sitting. “May I?”
Cyrus looked up at her slightly startled. “What? Of course,” he said signaling for her to sit down. It was only after she was seated that Cyrus realized what he had done. Damn his distraction.
Lopez decided a frontal assault was the best approach to discovering what she wanted to know. Like most technical types Jones was brutally honest. Deception and obfuscation did not come naturally to such people. “I couldn’t help but notice Dr. Ivanov left rather abruptly. What did you say to upset her so Mr. Jones?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything Major,” he replied defensively.
“That’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting,” she said, deliberately provoking him in order to get a reaction.
“All I was trying to do was convince Dr. Ivanov that she should come on the Ark.”
“It looks like you didn’t succeed,” she said.
“No. She’s completely set against it.” He sighed a sigh of defeat. “She should know better,” he said, his voice tinged with anger.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she is a scientist.” He said the word scientist with reverence. “A neuroscientist, to make matters worse. She of all people should know that our brains are nothing more than a machine for processing electrical signals representing external stimuli, so being an EM should not matter in any material way.” Frustration and disappointment were clear in Cyrus’s voice.
“You seem to be taking this very personally Mr. Jones,” Regina Lopez observed. She wanted to know why.
“I always take irrational behavior personally, Major.” That was the truth, but it was not the whole truth. He did not want to admit that he considered Elena Ivanov a friend and he did not like the idea of leaving her behind to die. He could not ignore the irony of the situation. He knew his anger at her being irrational was not itself rational; if that was what she wanted, what right did he have to tell her otherwise?
“So you would be just as distressed if I behaved in the same irrational way?” She did not tell him that she agreed with Dr. Ivanov, that there was no way she was going to be joining him on their crazy voyage.
Cyrus was startled by the question. He had not considered the possibility of Lopez coming along on Newton’s Ark, but he remembered she was part of the program now so it made sense. “Of course,” he replied. It was the only logical conclusion. And he realized it was true; he could not believe it but he would be disappointed if Major Lopez decided not to come.
Regina Lopez noticed him blush. She knew she had hit a nerve; she was just unsure why.
chapter 6
October 2045
Jenny Ryan’s colleagues thought the food riots were the big story; she believed they were just the tip of the iceberg. The administration’s explanation made perfect sense—America needed to reduce food consumption so that a surplus could be stored in case the asteroid did hit and affected the climate—but Jenny’s journalistic instincts screamed at her that they were not telling the whole story.
Her editor was not happy with Jenny spending all her time pursuing the story without producing anything, but as far as she was concerned her so-called employment contract was a joke. She was a glorified freelancer, that was what she was, even though they called her a staff reporter. Nobody had made a real living as a staff reporter for over thirty years, back in the days when newspapers were exactly that—news on paper. The pittance they called a salary didn’t even cover her rent; she made most of her money on piece rates. If she wasn’t being published she wasn’t being paid, so she decided her editor could go to hell.
Jenny knew from experience that investigative journalism depends for its success on the fact that people are terrible at keeping secrets. There is a certain status which comes from knowing a secret, but only if you share it; so people with secrets always want somebody to tell. You just had to stick at it long enough; let them find you so you could be that somebody.
This time it was proving harder than usual to find a source. Much harder. Her contacts in the administration would not even return her calls, let alone talk to her. Everything told Jenny Ryan she was on to something very important, something which the government really did not want the public to know. That did her no good though if she had no evidence. She was beginning to think it was a mistake not running the story about the missing scientists. She figured she was ultimately headed for prison anyway; running the missing scientists story might have shaken things up enough for someone other than her to start asking the right questions.
—o—
“The upload process is just like you’re used to Manny, back on the drone program,” Graham Blake said.
“Should be no problem then,” Manny replied.
“It’s after the upload that things will be different,” Cyrus added. “Instead of being inside the cockpit of a drone, you’ll find yourself back in this room. Or I should say a simulation of this room.”
“Then what?” Manny said.
“We need to get feedback from you on the extensions I’ve made to the EM programming, ideally in real time while you’re inside the virtual environment.”
“How will you do that?” Manny asked.
“I’m going to project your EM i
nto this room as a holo-image for us to interact with. Graham has rigged this room with holo-sensors so the computer can project us into the virtual room for your EM to interact with. If it works then it should feel to you just like this—standing here in this room talking to each other as we are now.”
“Let’s do it,” Manny said enthusiastically as he climbed into the chair. He expected it would not be as exciting as flying a drone mission, but it did sound intriguing.
“Ready?” Graham Blake asked as he finished attaching the cables. Manny gave a thumbs up. “Computer, initiate scan,” Blake said.
—o—
When her break came it was completely unexpected. She had been chasing the story for four months without any solid leads and was close to giving up. Jenny thought nothing of the man bumping into her—she was walking on a busy, crowded street, it was clearly an accident and he was apologetic—until later at home when she emptied her pockets. It was an old-fashioned note, handwritten in ink on paper, not something you saw everyday. Here’s the real story of what the government is planning it said, accompanied by hyperlinks to a series of documents. At the bottom was a very long sequence of letters and digits that she guessed was some kind of password.
Jenny pulled out her pad and scanned the note. As soon as the character recognition process was done she selected the first hyperlink. YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO ACCESS A RESTRICTED GOVERNMENT RESOURCE. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPTS ARE A FELONY AND MAY RESULT IN SEVERE CIVIL AND CRIMINAL PENALTIES the screen said. Panicking, Jenny switched off her pad as quickly as she could. She did not know if that would help, but she had no idea what else to do. What had she done? She had no idea who this source was or what their motivation might be. Was it some sort of trap? She imagined armed men breaking down her door in the dead of night to arrest her for hacking into some highly classified system.
Jenny felt overtaken by panic. She needed to calm herself. Maybe the relaxation techniques she had learned in her yoga class would help. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She was not expert at it, but it did help control the panic enough that she could at least think. With her head beginning to clear, Jenny Ryan realized she knew someone who could help, someone who knew everything about computers and had experience accessing government systems. Jenny switched her pad back on. “Computer, send the following urgent email to my brother,” she said. “Cyrus, I need your help...”
—o—
“Scan complete,” the computer said fifteen minutes later.
“That’s it?” Manny asked as Blake and Cyrus removed the cables.
“All done,” Cyrus answered. “Remember we don’t need you to stay in the chair to maintain the link.”
“Of course,” Manny replied sheepishly. Cyrus had told him that several times. It was the force of years of habit he supposed. “Now what happens?”
“Now it might get a little weird for you Manny. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Manny said with a smile.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Cyrus replied with a laugh. No doubt about it, Manny was very easy to work with. “OK, Graham turn on the holo-projection.”
Blake tapped his pad. “Done.”
Moments later a holo-image of Manny appeared. “Did it work?” he asked as he looked around the room. “I guess that’s a yes,” he said as he saw the physical Manny, who stood staring at the holo-image of himself.
“Weird is an understatement,” physical Manny said.
“Just as weird from here,” holographic Manny added.
“OK, you ready to start Manny?”
Both Mannys looked at him confused. “I suppose you meant me?” holographic Manny asked.
“I did,” Cyrus replied. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“OK, I think I’ll leave you guys to it,” physical Manny said. “I feel like a spare wheel. Or a spare Manny.”
—o—
“How do you feel?” Cyrus asked after Manny left.
“Just like myself,” Manny replied.
“That’s good. Ready to run some tests?”
“Fire away.”
Cyrus tapped his pad. “There’s a table in the corner with some food on it. Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, I am.”
“Then help yourself.”
Cyrus watched as the holographic image of Manny wandered across to the holographic image of the table, picked up a holographic apple and took a bite.
“Manny, can you describe the experience of eating the apple?” Cyrus asked.
“Um, it’s, it’s...” he hesitated.
“What is it?” Cyrus asked concerned.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say Cyrus. I’m eating an apple. It’s good—sweet and crispy—but I’m not sure what else you want me to tell you. I mean I’m eating an apple like I’ve probably done a thousand times before.”
“Yes!” Cyrus exclaimed as he high-fived with Graham Blake.
“I take it that’s good,” Manny asked confused.
“It’s perfect, that’s what it is,” Cyrus replied. “That’s the result we want Manny. For your experiences inside the virtual environment to feel so much like the real thing that you don’t really know what to say.”
“Shall we move on to the next test?” Graham Blake asked.
“I think so,” Cyrus replied. “If that’s OK with you Manny?”
“Sure,” Manny replied. “But I’m still hungry. Do you mind if I finish my lunch first? And what has an EM got to do around here to get a virtual beer?” he added with a huge grin.
—o—
Jenny looked awful. Her hair was unkempt, there were dark circles under her eyes and she smelled—well she smelled like she had not showered in days. She had emailed Cyrus that she needed his help but absolutely insisted on talking to him about it face to face. It was not just that his sister had spent the past three days driving from DC to Denver without sleep or any of the other comforts of home. She looked frightened. That worried Cyrus; he did not think of his baby sister as someone who scared easily.
“Jen, why don’t you take a shower and get some sleep. We can talk later,” he said as he carried her bag from her car into the living room of the apartment that James Newton had provided for him. He did not use it for much more than sleeping—he spent most of his time working or in the cafeteria—but at times like this it was certainly useful to have his own private space.
“It can’t wait Cyrus,” she insisted.
“At least let me make you some coffee. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”
“OK,” she said taking a seat at the kitchen bench as Cyrus began the process of brewing the coffee. It would not be as good as the espresso from the cafeteria, but he was sure it would be a whole lot better than the roadhouse poison his sister had probably been drinking for the past few days.
“So what’s this all about Jen?” he asked with concern.
She did not answer his question directly but instead asked him a question. “What do you think of the government’s statements about the asteroid?”
Cyrus was taken aback by his sister’s question. Newton had told him the government was lying, or leaving out so much of the truth that it amounted to the same thing, and then vividly described what the government would do to them if they mentioned it to anyone. “Why do you ask?” he replied, trying hard to appear casual when really his heart was racing.
“Because I believe the government is hiding something, something big.”
Cyrus tried to calm himself. “Do you have any evidence?” he asked. Classic deflection on his part. He hoped against hope he could make this go away.
“I have this,” she said as she showed him the note. “I tried to access one of the hyperlinks and got a very scary warning message.”
Cyrus examined the note. “Phew, I’m not surprised,” he exclaimed. He could tell from the addresses, and the length of what was obviously
an authentication key, that this was very highly classified information. “Jenny, where did you get this? This is really serious stuff. Really serious. You don’t want to be messing with this.”
“But Cyrus, don’t you think if the government is hiding something the public have the right to know the truth?” she asked. “That’s my job as a journalist, to tell people the truth when others refuse to.”
Cyrus had heard this idealistic nonsense that journalism is about telling the truth from his sister many times before. He did not buy into it. The truth could be dangerous around people who were not ready to hear it. In his experience that was most people most of the time. People avoided the truth. People got angry about the truth. People found others to blame for the truth. What most people did not do was simply accept the truth and deal with it. “Jen, it’s not as simple as that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t know what you don’t know. What if there’s a very good reason the government is hiding something. What if exposing it would make the situation worse?”
“Cyrus do you know something?” Jenny asked.
“Jen I may know some things, but I can’t really talk about them. I’m just saying hypothetically. You can’t discount that possibility can you?”
Her face changed to a look of horror. “Oh my God, you’re part of the cover-up! Are you part of the cover-up? Is that what you’re doing here?” Jen had wondered why her brother had transferred to Denver. Now it made sense.
“Calm down Jen. No I’m not part of the cover-up. I promise you I’m working on something else. I may know someone who knows something about the cover-up that’s all.”
Jenny’s concern that Cyrus was involved in the cover-up was quickly displaced by excitement at the possibility that she may have found another lead. “Who?” she asked. “Cyrus, I need to talk to them.”
—o—
“Cyrus, what’s the problem?” Newton asked. He knew something was seriously wrong when Cyrus had requested an urgent meeting. It was unlike Cyrus to come to him; Cyrus usually disappeared into his work until Newton went chasing him.
